Jacob Q. Chaconne
Jacob Q. Chaconne strolled down the sidewalk, notes racing through his mind. Chaconne stumbled on a crack, as composer’s block smothered every attempt at a melody he produced. As he lumbered up the staircase to his meager apartment, he was reminded of an ancient Greek love song he once knew. How did that tune go again?
Inside the comfort of his own apartment, Jacob looked desperately for inspiration. He settled into his favorite chair and soaked in the warmth of a splendid performance of Cage’s 4’33”. “Ah, yes,” thought Jacob, “This is the music for me.” He immediately shuffled over to his piano.
The resulting composition for piano and trumpet that was the product of the next few hours was the substance of legend. It contained chords that hadn’t previously existed. They required the use of all ten fingers, as well as three toes and an ear lobe. He invented new dynamic markings like just a little pianissimo, and almost forte. The trumpet was required to play four notes at once in several places. Several phrases lasted over 342 measures. Chaconne’s work was like something no man (or beast) had ever seen.
It was well into the middle of the night by the time Jacob wrote in the final cadence. He was so fatigued from writing the piece that he passed out on top of the piano. His sleep was filled with dancing visions of his piano and trumpet concerto being performed to raving crowds at Carnegie Hall. Who had heard of Bach? Of Mozart or Beethoven? What of Brahms? None could compare to the new master of music: Jacob Q. Chaconne.
The next morning brought sunlight creeping its way onto Jacob’s stubbly face. When it reached the bridge of his nose, Jacob awoke to a muffled German augmented sixth chord being played by his chubby elbows. He came to his senses as he remembered his masterpiece. “Yes! I shall call it-” Before he could finish his sentence, the music that he grasped spontaneously combusted, leaving nothing but carbon as evidence of what would have been the world’s finest musical composition. (Benjamin Simmerman)
Inside the comfort of his own apartment, Jacob looked desperately for inspiration. He settled into his favorite chair and soaked in the warmth of a splendid performance of Cage’s 4’33”. “Ah, yes,” thought Jacob, “This is the music for me.” He immediately shuffled over to his piano.
The resulting composition for piano and trumpet that was the product of the next few hours was the substance of legend. It contained chords that hadn’t previously existed. They required the use of all ten fingers, as well as three toes and an ear lobe. He invented new dynamic markings like just a little pianissimo, and almost forte. The trumpet was required to play four notes at once in several places. Several phrases lasted over 342 measures. Chaconne’s work was like something no man (or beast) had ever seen.
It was well into the middle of the night by the time Jacob wrote in the final cadence. He was so fatigued from writing the piece that he passed out on top of the piano. His sleep was filled with dancing visions of his piano and trumpet concerto being performed to raving crowds at Carnegie Hall. Who had heard of Bach? Of Mozart or Beethoven? What of Brahms? None could compare to the new master of music: Jacob Q. Chaconne.
The next morning brought sunlight creeping its way onto Jacob’s stubbly face. When it reached the bridge of his nose, Jacob awoke to a muffled German augmented sixth chord being played by his chubby elbows. He came to his senses as he remembered his masterpiece. “Yes! I shall call it-” Before he could finish his sentence, the music that he grasped spontaneously combusted, leaving nothing but carbon as evidence of what would have been the world’s finest musical composition. (Benjamin Simmerman)
posted by Prometheus Publications at 1:37 PM
1 Comments:
This is hilarious! You have a unique tone that realyl gets the readers attention
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